The Queen's Blade

by T C Southwell

  Blade raked back his rumpled hair. “Does the Queen expect me to wear that foppish outfit?”

  “Yes sir.”

  The assassin slid from the bed, clad only in a pair of baggy grey flannel shorts that almost reached his knees. The servant’s lips twitched as he suppressed a smile, and Blade went to splash his face in the bowl of water provided.

  “Well, I won’t,” Blade declared. “Definitely not that garish shirt, and that tunic. Bring me something less gaudy.”

  “The Queen insists, sir. You must wear it for the ceremony today. A great feast has been ordered, with entertainment and dancing.”

  “And am I to be the freak on show? Take those things away and bring me my clothes.”

  “I can’t, sir. The Queen would be angry.”

  “I don’t care. I won’t wear that outfit.”

  “Very good, sir, I’ll inform the Queen.” The man bowed and headed for the door.

  “Wait! Why should the Queen concern herself with such trivial matters? Bring me my clothes!”

  The servant paused in the doorway. “I’m sorry sir, but these are her orders. Today she concerns herself greatly with your ceremony.”

  Blade snorted and opened his mouth to berate the man further, but he was gone. A search of the wardrobe found it empty, and he cursed the servant as he sat on the bed and frowned at the clothes. Evidently the man had absconded with Blade’s apparel while he had bathed the previous evening.

  The door opened, and he turned to vent his displeasure upon the returning servant, then grabbed the sheet to wrap around himself as Minna-Satu sailed in, followed by Chiana and several handmaidens. Blade stared at her before lowering his eyes to the hem of her gown.

  “My Queen, this is unseemly.”

  “Indeed?” Her brows rose, and he was surprised she did not comment on his failure to bend a knee. “This is my palace, and I go where I will in it. Come, I have seen naked men before. I may be a maiden, but I am not an innocent.”

  “But -”

  “I am informed that you refuse to wear the clothes provided, which I selected myself for your ceremony.”

  Blade glanced at the outfit. “I…. They are too bright. I am unused to such ornamental garments.”

  “Then it is time you changed your ways. You are to retire; you need not skulk in the shadows now.”

  “I have never -”

  “I wish us to be friends, Blade. I hope to count you as one of my closest and most trusted advisors and confidants after your elevation.”

  “I had not planned -”

  “I do not bestow these rewards lightly, or upon the undeserving.”

  “I -”

  “Furthermore, I do expect to be at least patronised in this matter, for I shall not present a man to my court who is not decently attired.”

  The assassin raised his eyes, knowing that if he tried to argue she would just interrupt again. The challenge in her eyes was clear. She would brook no opposition, and a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. For the first time, she impressed him. Her regal bearing and demand of obedience, so at odds with her slender form, brought a twinge of respect.

  He nodded. “Very well, but not the shirt.”

  Minna gestured to one of the girls. “Fetch another, a paler colour.”

  “Grey,” Blade stipulated, and the Queen nodded. The maiden hastened out, and another two came forward. They sat beside him and started to brush his hair, freeing it from its leather thong. Minna settled on a pouf, smiling.

  Blade asked, “Surely you do not mean to supervise?”

  “I do. I must speak to you now, since yesterday you were too tired and rude.”

  “What about?”

  “The ceremony. It is short, but complex, and I must warn you, given your nervous nature, not to be alarmed by the weapons that will be used in it.”

  “Are they to be thrown at my head?”

  She laughed. “No, certainly not, but they will be in close contact with your person, and I would not want you to think yourself in danger.”

  “And who will be wielding these weapons?”

  “I shall.”

  “I see.” He winced as a girl tugged at a knot in his hair.

  “Have a care, Terril,” the Queen remonstrated.

  “I am sorry, My Queen,” the girl replied. “It is like combing a horse’s tail.” Blade cast her a sideways glance, and the maiden dimpled, adding, “Although finer hair I have seldom seen, and certainly not on a man.”

  Minna giggled as the other maiden produced a razor, and Blade leant away from her, eyeing it sceptically. The girl ignored him as she trimmed the ragged edges of his hair at shoulder length.

  “You have nothing to fear from my maidens,” Minna said. “They will not harm you.”

  “She could cut my throat with one slip.”

  “She will not slip, I assure you. Now, as to the ceremony. It will take place at noon, in the audience room, before my assembled court. When the usher gives the signal, you will enter through the side door and approach the throne. There I will make the award, and afterwards, you shall sit beside me at the banquet.”

  He sighed, aggrieved. “Must there be all this pomp and ceremony?”

  “Yes. You came forward to claim the reward I offered, and this is it.”

  The maidens finished brushing and cutting his hair, and plaited it into a tight braid.

  “What title are you giving me?” he asked.

  The Queen shook her head. “I promised to teach you manners when you returned, and it is customary to refer to me as ‘My Queen’ every so often. It is a sign of respect. You understand?”

  “What title are you giving me, My Queen?”

  “You will find out soon enough.”

  The maiden returned with a dark grey shirt as the other two finished braiding his hair. Minna studied him. “You have a noble face. You will look well in my court.” She clapped, and the maidens rose, filing out. Chiana, who stood by the door, smiled at him.

  Minna rose with a rustle of skirts. “No weapons on your person, if you please. This once, you will not need them.”

  He looked up at her. “As you wish.”

  “I suppose you are just as deadly with your bare hands?”

  “Yes.”

  She shivered, turning away. “We will leave you to dress now. The manservant will help you.”

  Blade dressed himself, then ate a hearty breakfast of poached neleggs and smoked ham before settling down to wait for the allotted time. When it came, the servant returned to fuss over Blade’s clothes, straightening, tugging, and brushing at invisible specks of lint. Blade bore it until the man had had his fill, then followed him into the corridor that led to the audience chamber.

  Outside the open door, they stopped in front of two guards, one of whom came forward to search the assassin. Blade wondered at the need for this, but shrugged it off as he gazed at the scene through the door.

  In the vast golden room, the Queen had just settled upon the throne, sceptre in hand. She wore a gown of silver and gold thread, a high fish-spine collar framing her head. Her coiled hair dripped gold and jewels, and her fingers and wrists sparkled with rings and bracelets. On a table beside her rested a peacock-hued ribbon, a jewel-encrusted dagger and a scroll. Two high-ranking officers, resplendent in golden armour and white plumes, stood on either side of the throne.

  Advisors and nobles filled the audience chamber to capacity, and guards stood, statue-like, at the back of the throng. The silence would have made a pin falling sound like a thunderclap.

  Queen Minna-Satu addressed her court. “Today, we honour and reward a man who has achieved what most people believed to be impossible. I set a task, some time ago, that of ending the life of King Shandor and bringing his son to Jondar. More than two score warriors took on the task, and failed.

  “One man succeeded, alone and unaided, in completing that task. His name may be known to you. His reputation is well told, although his profession is not well liked. But, in this
instance, he has served me well, and deserves all of the reward that I today bestow upon him. Let no man slight him or offer him harm. He has my favour and my ear. Any insult to him is an insult to me. From this day forth, he will be a noble, and join the highest ranks of my court.”

  The manservant took Blade’s arm and pushed him towards the throne, overcoming his reluctance with a shove that almost sent him staggering into the room. The assassin swung around angrily, then realised that he was in full sight of the entire court. Minna turned to face him, and he swallowed his anger and embarrassment as he walked towards her.

  “I present to you a man who holds my highest regard, and has many names to his credit,” the Queen stated. “He is known as the Silent Slayer, the Invisible Assassin, or simply Blade. Today, he is Conash of the Cats.”

  A murmur arose from the assembly as many members turned to their neighbours with incredulous expressions. Minna raised her sceptre and brought it down with a clink. Silence fell. Blade reached the bottom of the dais and hesitated, but the Queen beckoned him forward, and he climbed the three shallow steps to her level. She rose as he approached, and he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

  “My Queen.”

  Another whisper hissed from the crowd at his failure to perform a prostration.

  Minna gestured for him to rise, smiling. “Welcome, Conash of the Cats.”

  Blade stood, uncomfortably aware of the numerous glares directed at his back. The tension and anger radiating from the members of the court was palpable, and if looks could kill, he knew that he would be dead many times over. To distract himself from the itchy prickle between his shoulder blades, he watched the Queen step towards the table and pick up the jewelled dagger. She returned to stand almost toe-to-toe with him, and raised the weapon, pressing the point to his shirt in the vicinity of his heart. He smiled at her inaccuracy, for, had she pushed the dagger in, she would have missed the vital organ and pierced his left lung instead. Blade remained immobile, even when he became aware, with a slight start, that the two officers had taken up position on either side of him. The ceremony was starting to resemble an execution more than an award, and he frowned.

  The Queen said, “As a man of my realm, you are beholden to me, but as a noble of my court, your life belongs to me alone. No one may take it from you without my permission, lest I do hunt them down and exact vengeance in kind upon them. But should I require it, none shall gainsay me. In return, you shall offer me no harm, nor disobey me. Do you so swear?”

  He hesitated, unsure of the correct response. “Yes, My Queen.”

  Minna withdrew the dagger, and his scalp prickled as the officers drew their swords with a hiss of steel. The naked blades pointed at his flanks, almost touching his clothes, and he darted a surreptitious glance at them. The Queen pressed the edge of the dagger to one side of his throat, then the other.

  “I grant you the title of Lord of the Realm, holder of the lands of Josham and the town of Bardim. I appoint you the Queen’s guardian and personal advisor, second only to the chief advisor in that regard. I bestow upon you a living fitting to your title. Give me your hand.”

  Startled, Blade held out his right hand. The Queen never touched people, as far as he knew. Her maidens tended to her, but all others remained at a polite distance. She took his hand in a cool clasp, running her fingers over his palm with apparent pleasure.

  “A nice hand,” she murmured for him alone, and pressed the hilt of the dagger into it. Holding his fingers around the hilt, she turned the blade upon herself and poised it before her breast. Disconcerted, Blade tried to release the weapon, but could not until she freed his hand, whereupon the dagger clattered to the floor. He snatched his hand away and stepped back.

  Minna smiled. “Good.”

  The officers sheathed their swords, and a servant scuttled forward to pick up the dagger. Minna-Satu went to the table and picked up the blue-green ribbon, coming close again to pin it onto his lapel.

  “Here is my favour,” she said, then picked up the scroll. “The deeds to your lands and title, which are, of course, hereditary.” She lowered her voice to add, “Choose a fine son to adopt, who will do you honour.”

  He took the scroll. “What if I do not?”

  “Then all shall revert to me, or my daughter, who will bestow it upon whomever she sees fit.” She stepped back. “Now, you bow and step from the dais.”

  Blade did so, turning away as a desultory applause started. The accolade was so unenthusiastic that Queen Minna-Satu frowned and lifted her hands to clap, shooting a hard glance at the crowd. The courtiers redoubled their efforts, and Blade walked towards the door through which he had entered. Along the way, he passed Prince Kerrion, who grinned and clapped.

  At the door, the manservant took the scroll and gripped his arm, steering him away from his room. “I’ll see to the deeds, My Lord. You must now go to the banquet hall for the feast. Your place is beside the Queen.”

  “Not more rigmarole,” Blade groaned, allowing himself to be steered down a hall.

  “Just a great deal of food, My Lord.”

  A vast table, draped with a gilt-edged white satin cloth, dominated the centre of the banquet hall. An amazing variety of food covered it, laid out in crystal bowls, translucent jade plates and golden platters. Feathers and flowers decorated the steaming spread of succulent fowl, game and fish that jostled for space between jugs of rare herb sauces and dishes of vegetables. Many smaller tables surrounded it, set with alabaster plates and golden cutlery.

  The servant led him to the high table at the far end of the chamber as murmuring nobles wandered in. Many stared at Blade in a hostile manner, but his glare made them look away. The ceremony had, by now, started to annoy him, and he growled when the servant tried to guide him to a chair.

  “For God’s sake, leave me alone!”

  The man bowed and left Blade standing beside the Queen’s table. Before he could decide what to do, a mocking voice spoke behind him.

  “So, your deeds are rewarded, and quickly too, I must say.”

  Blade swung around to find Kerrion grinning at him.

  The Prince went on, “Usually these things take days to arrange. It seems your queen knew in advance of your success.”

  The assassin scowled at his former captive. “So, they let you out of your cage.”

  “Oh, yes, I have already dined with the Queen and spent many time-glasses talking to her. She is a little naive, but no more so than any other young woman. She wants a peace treaty, as I suspected. You will not be allowed the satisfaction of adding me to your tally.”

  Blade shrugged. “Life is full of little surprises.”

  “The Invisible Assassin, hmmm? If only they knew.”

  “I have never left anyone alive to tell my secret before.”

  “Well, I am sure it will make fascinating dinner conversation tonight.” Kerrion chuckled. “Perhaps you will give a demonstration?”

  “I should have killed you.”

  “Too late now; Lords do not kill princes.”

  “One word from the Queen, and I will stop your flapping tongue forever.”

  “You will be disappointed. She plans to send me back.”

  Blade turned away. “She may yet change her mind.”

  “I doubt it. She wants peace too much. I would say that she will do anything to achieve it.”

  “But since you do not, you are quite useless to her, are you not?” The assassin faced him again. “Perhaps your brother will be more amenable, especially to threats upon his life. Now that he has seen that he is vulnerable, as your father was, he may wish to protect himself.”

  Kerrion looked put out. “Lerton’s ego is too big for him to give way to such threats.”

  “You do not sound entirely confident of that.”

  “My brother will not leave the city.”

  “That is supposed to daunt me?” Blade smiled.

  Kerrion glowered at him. “Your queen will not sanction it.”

 
“If you co-operate, I doubt it. But if you do not, you may well end up dead, and your brother may find himself faced with a choice between peace and death.”

  “You have a high opinion of your abilities.”

  “Surely you cannot be such a fool as to doubt me?”

  The Prince met Blade’s eyes, and the assassin knew that Kerrion would find in their wintry depths the chilling certainty that to doubt him was folly.

  Blade went on, “Tread softly, Prince, and listen well to the Queen’s suggestions. Your life may depend upon it. Killing you and all your kin will give me more pleasure than lands and titles.”

  “One word to the Queen, and you could find yourself on the gallows, assassin. I doubt she takes kindly to her minions threatening the man with whom she would negotiate peace.”

  Blade affected a startled air. “Did I threaten you?” He smiled. “I never kill without a client, but she may grow weary of your foolishness yet, and decide to take another course, such as the one I have suggested. And since I now have her ear, I might suggest it to her myself, especially if I should find myself at all annoyed by certain disclosures regarding my occupation.”

  “I will not be blackmailed,” Kerrion declared. “I will judge the negotiations upon their merit, and not be swayed by your threats.”

  “Bear it in mind, nonetheless.”

  By now, the hall had filled, and the Queen arrived with her retainers to seat herself between the assassin and the Prince. Blade was on her right hand, with Chiana just beyond him. As soon as all had taken their places, the meal was served, starting with the Queen, then her guests. As soon as the servants moved away, Minna turned to Blade.

  “So, My Lord, how did you like the ceremony?”

  Blade raised his brows. “You call me ‘My Lord’?”

  “Of course. That is now your title. Any who do not address you thus are rude, and you may chastise them, if you will.”

  “Really?” He glanced at Kerrion. “I will have to remember that.”

  “You did not answer my question, Lord Conash.”

  “The ceremony? I could have done well enough without it.”